


Reaper

by theecat



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, I'll add and edit tags as needed, Minecraft but make it vaguely realistic, Near Death Experiences, Older Sibling Wilbur Soot, Technically a demigod au, Wilbur Soot and TommyInnit are Siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:36:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,469
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28851435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theecat/pseuds/theecat
Summary: “Keep up, Tommy. I don’t want us getting separated.”“You know that’s the third time you’ve said that in the past minute.”Tommy looks up to see Wilbur shooting him a pointed look. It says all that it has to.“Ok, ok...I’m coming.”There's a forest just outside of town. No one often goes in. Why would they, if Dream is kind enough to let them live on his land?Figures it'd be Tommy's luck that Wilbur decides to set up camp there.
Relationships: Clay | Dream & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Technoblade & TommyInnit (Video Blogging RPF), Toby Smith | Tubbo & TommyInnit, Wilbur Soot & TommyInnit
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	Reaper

**Author's Note:**

> Happy 2021 I've reverted back to my middle school self and I'm writing minecraft fanfiction again
> 
> This is actually loosely based on an idea I've had for a long time, and it's basically what my smp plot would be if I ever had one! I thought it would be cool to change the format into a fic and see how it goes. Also, I'm new to the fandom, so I haven't really interacted with many other fics or fanart, so if the characterization doesn't comply to fanon, that's why! 
> 
> This is the first fanfic I've posted since literally the year 2012 so comments are super appreciated!! It'll definitely help motivate me haha, Thanks!
> 
> (Warnings for this chapter are brief descriptions of animal death, near death experiences, as well as game-typical violence)

“Keep up, Tommy. I don’t want us getting separated.”

“You know that’s the third time you’ve said that in the past minute.”

Tommy looks up to see Wilbur shooting him a pointed look. It says all that it has to.

“Ok, ok...I’m coming.”

The two of them had been walking for what felt like days. Tommy was just thankful they weren’t carrying much. Then again, they weren’t given much time to really pack their lives away before they left. What was the roads of their home turned to the tall grass of fields, turned to the damp, muddy ground of the dark oak forest they were currently traversing. It was different than any land Tommy had ever seen.

“Have you ever been in woods like these?” It was the first question Tommy had asked since they started. Both of them had walked in silence so far, somewhere between tense and comfortable. Better late than never to try to get the feeling in the air back to normal.

“Maybe once or twice. I’ve read about them more than I’ve actually been in them.” Wilbur responds. Tommy looks up, eyes squinting a little bit to peer through the canopy and towards the bright, mid-morning sky. As bright as it looked, the thick branches and leaves cast the ground in a cool shadow, with only pools of sunlight leaking through. “But it’s rather nice, I think. Better than a desert.”

“Anything’s better than a desert if you ask me.”

Wilbur chuckles. “Yeah, you would say that, wouldn’t you.” He looks back down to Tommy, and the cold look from earlier is replaced with a warm, knowing smirk.

“That was one fucking time, Wilbur. You know, if you had fallen into a stupid sand pit at a young and impressionable age, I wouldn’t remind you of it every chance I got.”

“Oh, I know. It’s just you were stuck in there f-”

“I know.”

“And you started to cr-”

“I said I know.”

Wilbur laughs again and playfully bumps Tommy with his shoulder, causing him to stumble slightly. Beside himself, Tommy laughs too, returning the gesture with his own shove. Wilbur hardly loses balance, and runs up a few meters ahead of his younger brother. “I said keep up! Why are you lagging behind again?”

Tommy groans in mock annoyance. “Now that’s four times! Wait the fuck up, ok?”

Time passes faster after that. A few long days of steeping in their own respective anger dissolves after a moment of play. Starting over again wasn’t going to be that hard. At least, Tommy was pretty sure of that. He and Wilbur had clawed their way back dozens of times, and this was no different, even if they truly had no home or town or...friends. Or things. Or anything. Well, maybe that wasn’t true. Tommy did have some tools. And his discs, of course. And Wilbur.

It’s a moment or two before Tommy realizes that he’s walking alone. Spinning around, he sees his brother dump his stuff on the ground. “Here will work.” He says confidently.

“Um...you sure? I’m pretty certain there isn’t another person for, like, a million miles from here.” Despite the subtle protest, Tommy returns to the spot and drops his pack of belongings.

“Yeah! I mean, it’ll be temporary. But there’s plenty of trees, I think I saw a few wild cows around when we were walking in. It’s fine for a campsite. Besides, I’d rather stay here with what we got than risk passing it up.”

He says it so confidently that Tommy knows not to bother trying to argue. Plus, it’s a good excuse to rest his legs. Plopping to the ground, Tommy opens his pack, pulls out the wool blanket and pillow that serves as his bed, and lays it out flat. He checks to make sure his music discs are still secure in their pocket. Thankfully, they’re all fine. It sucks that he has no way to listen to them anymore, but maybe he can make himself another jukebox sometime soon. They’re a little expensive, sure, but not too hard to craft.

“Hey, um...Wilbur?” Tommy calls, looking up to see his brother driving a stake into the ground. “Do you have any spare bread?”

“I don’t know. Look in my bag.”

Tommy crawls over and unlatches the clasp. Peering inside, he shuffles around the few things that were in there. Books, ew. A compass. Spare scrap metal and….some stale crumbs. “Yeah, uh, we’re out of food.”

With a grunt, Wilbur drives a second stake into the ground. “Hm?” He looks at Tommy for a moment. “Well, I said I saw a few animals nearby. If you get some food now, we can cook it in time for dinner.”

Tommy sighs a bit petulantly. “Whatever happened to keeping close?”

“That was before we knew where we were going. Now we know we’re here. Go on, you can even borrow my axe.”

Tommy huffs and drags the axe over before using it as leverage when he stands up again. “If I die, it’s your fault, you know.”

“Yep! That’s what they’ve always told me.” Wilbur doesn’t even give Tommy the satisfaction of an annoyed stare. He’s far too focused on his own project with setting up camp. “Bye, Tommy.”

“Yeah, yeah. Bye.”

Just like that, Tommy sets off into the woods, glancing over his shoulder and trying to memorize the way he came in. Once he’s properly away from the clearing, he swings the axe over his shoulder and looks around. “All right...where were those cows Wilbur thought he saw..” The forest seemed pretty quiet, save for the rustle of the leaves. Typically, Tommy would hear animals before he saw them when he went hunting. Well, maybe “hunting” is a bit strong of a word. There really isn’t anything to hunt when you know the animal you’re killing doesn’t really pose any threat. It’s more “finding” animals than anything. With a sigh, Tommy takes a turn, trying to find another clearing, or at least a patch of grass. The damn tree branches were so thick, it didn’t allow for enough sunlight to hit the ground. Most of it was dirt and mud, with maybe a spare blade or two of green cropping up at a tree trunk’s base. “Come on..” Tommy muttered, “before I starve to death.”

He stood still, trying again to rely on his listening. Maybe the animals were simply behind him. Unsuspecting...unaware...that Tommy was about to..

“A-ha!” With a sharp twist, Tommy swings the axe down through a nearby bush. Hm. Nothing. “I-I mean….A-ha!!” He tries again, this time solidly hacking into a tree stump. Nothing again.

“...God, why am I so fucking awkward.” With a grunt, he pulls the axe out of the tree and slings it over his shoulder. “Christ, sorry you had to witness that, everyone.” He looks up, trying to gauge the time by the sky’s brightness. It wasn’t that late at all. He had time.

Not wanting to stray too far from camp, he takes another turn, trying to stay within the same radius of where he knew Wilbur was. After a few minutes of hiking, Tommy came across a small pond. It was only a few meters across, and it couldn’t have been deeper than waist level. That didn’t matter, though. In his experience, where there was water, there were usually animals nearby..

He looks up, and just ahead, past a few trees, he spots movement. Fucking finally. Axe in hand, Tommy charges after it, jumping over roots and dodging tree trunks. Luckily, wild cows like this aren’t known for their dexterity, so it’s a short chase. A swift swing from an iron axe, and Tommy has dinner. Kneeling down next to the fresh carcass, he starts to carve cuts of meat from the animal’s body, making sure to keep the skin intact. Leather tied with a length of string made a convenient way of packaging the steak. Two...Three...Four pieces of beef. That’ll be enough for the night. Tommy wipes his hand on the ground in an attempt to dry it of blood. It works well enough, and he reaches into his back pocket, pulling out a piece of string. He holds it between his teeth before yanking sharply, tearing off an appropriate length in order to tie up his find. Wrap it around twice, tie it in a knot… It was a bit monotonous, but it was fine. A quiet moment like this let Tommy hear a rustle behind him. Perfect. Poor cow led him right to the rest of the herd. With a small chuckle, Tommy stands again, prepared to chase after the animal lumbering through the shrubs, but when he turns around, there’s a flash of movement. A strong weight hits his chest, and he’s sent to the ground, head slamming against the packed dirt. It happens so fast, Wilbur’s axe is knocked from his hand, leaving Tommy’s arm pinned under the skittering, pointed limb of the creature. He gazes up in shock, and his two eyes are met with eight dark red ones.

“Fuck! Get off! Get off!” Tommy yells in panic, legs flailing in an attempt to lodge the massive spider off of him. It’s useless, and Tommy watches as the creature hisses, mandibles twitching, and reveals two sharp fangs tinged with a sickly green. He screams, and the spider’s teeth plunge into his right shoulder.

“Stop! Get off of me!” He screams, legs trying again to somehow earn him leverage. Becoming desperate, he tries to use his arms instead. To his horror, he quickly realizes that his right arm is losing feeling, and the place where he was bit was throbbing with an intense burning sensation. “Get off...Fucking- damn it, please, please get off-”  
His voice diminishes to something small and pitiful, and the useless plea does nothing to chase the monster away or bring feeling back to Tommy’s arm. The creature simply hisses again, mouth dripping with an awful mix of venom and spit, and skitters up. One of its legs presses sharply against Tommy’s throat, squeezing out a pathetic cough. Tommy shuts his eyes and stops his struggle, his whole body suddenly aching with a heavy, poisoned fatigue.

There’s a snap in the air, and the inhumane pressure against his body jerks to the side, tumbling over and away. Tommy barely registers the splatter of fluid across his cheek, all he can feel is the rush of air in his lungs. Panting, he kicks at the ground, trying to use the opportunity to get away. It’s hard with the dead weight of his arm dragging through the dirt. A few meters away from the spider, the panic clouding Tommy’s vision clears, and he can see eight twitching legs, slowly curling tight as the monster dies, an arrow lodged deep within it’s head.

The only sound at first is Tommy’s labored breath. That, and his stifled whimpers of pain. A quick glance to his shoulder reveals the infected bite, burning so hot that the heat nearly radiates off his face. By now, his whole right arm was completely numb, and when Tommy looked, he could see thin, green rivulets just underneath his skin. It almost seemed to glow as the venom crawled down his arm and up his shoulder.

“What are you doing here?” A cold voice asks.

Tommy gasps and snaps his head back around to see someone bending over the spider, yanking the arrow out of it’s carcass and returning it to a quiver strapped on their back. They were tall, much taller than any person Tommy had ever known, and their hair, tied loosely in a braid, was a strange shade of pink. It was all a strange shade of pink, he realized. As Tommy scanned their face, he could spot what seemed to be pointed ears, just hidden behind that braid. This person wasn’t human. That’s all Tommy knew.

“What are you doing here.” The stranger’s deep voice says again, although this time, it’s a command, not a question.

“I’m-” Tommy forces out, but his voice cuts out before he gets very far. He swallows thickly. “I’m trying not to get mauled to death. Sorry for the inconvenience.” He cuts back sarcastically, wiping the dried saliva off his cheek with the back of his good hand. “Who the fuck are you?”

The other’s eyes narrow, and Tommy can feel his gaze scanning him over. Suddenly, he was acutely aware of what he must have looked like. A torn shirt, a dirt-ridden face, and an arm that was only dead weight. With a small huff, Tommy wipes his face again, as if that will somehow make him seem less helpless. The stranger only rolls his eyes.

“You’re in my forest.”

“Oh, sorry, must’ve missed the sign.”

“You’re five minutes away from death, kid. Is this really how you want to be spending it?”

Something in the back of Tommy’s throat burned, and he looked away. Pissed as he was, he knew it wasn’t far from a lie. The numbness had slowly creeped its way down. Tommy was beginning to lose feeling in his leg, and the exhaustion in his muscles made it hard to do much, even where it didn’t hurt as bad. The green veins of venom were branching farther up his neck. What a way to fucking go.

“....Sorry.” It’s ragged and faint and hurts Tommy’s throat, but not as much as the sigh the other emits. The last thing he wanted was feigned pity.

There’s the sound of boots slowly walking across the damp ground, and a glint of light catches Tommy’s eye. He looks back up, and a glass bottle with some sort of vibrant, pink liquid is being handed towards him. It glistens in a way that seems vaguely unnatural, but that could be due to what seemed like shadows closing in.

“Drink it.”

Tommy’s gaze moves up. The stranger seems as apathetic as before, and his eyes have a cold indifference that lets Tommy know that this is nothing more than an inconvenience to him. With a slow hand, Tommy reaches up for the vial. As soon as his fingers have hold of it, the other turns his back and walks away. Like nothing had ever happened. Like this was a completely normal encounter to have.

Tommy opens his mouth to call after him, but his mind can’t think of anything to say. And by the time he figures he could at least ask for a name, the person was long gone, hidden by the thick shrubbery and trees. All that was left was to drink the vial. With a grunt, Tommy brings the cork to his lips, bites down as hard as he can, and pulls it off with a pop. He can hear a faint fizz of the liquid. At this point, he’s almost certain it’s a potion. He’s never seen one in person, but it didn’t take a genius to recognize it’s shimmery pink glow. With a small breath and a mental here goes nothing, he downs it. It tasted weirdly...burnt. With a strange metallic aftertaste. Tommy tosses the empty glass bottle away and slumps down onto the cold ground, eyes shut.

“Fuckin’ hell..”

He laid there for what felt like ages, mind completely blank. He wanted to be ok, but it felt like pouring trust into a stranger’s potion would make it so much more disappointing when it turns out he was wronged. So, he waits.

The first thing that returns is feeling in his foot. It sneaks up on him, and by the time Tommy realizes he can move his leg again, he doesn’t even recognize that the ache in his muscles melts away. Sitting up with newfound energy, Tommy blinks his eyes a few times and even rubs them for good measure. The green veins through his arm are slowly disappearing. Upon closer inspection, he can even see traces of pink, doing its job to scrub the poison away. He climbs to his knees, then kneels, then fully stands up, arms held out for balance. A quick curl of his fingers and yep. Yes. Yeah, they’re all still there. And he can feel them fine. “Holy shit... “ Tommy whispers to himself, heart starting to pump with a sudden surge of adrenaline. “Holy shit, what the fuck just happened?” He spins around, stumbling only slightly, and spots Wilbur’s axe a few meters away. He goes to grab it, holding it firmly with both hands. “Did I-” He can’t even finish the sentence without laughing, full and loud. Was that the craziest thing that’s ever happened to him? Probably not, thinking about it, but fucking hell did it come close. Tommy quickly snatches up the leather pack he made before the whole ordeal and tucks it underneath his arm. “Did I really just fucking survive that?” He laughs again, tilting his head back before making his way back towards Wilbur’s camp. The soft ground made pretty clear footsteps, and soon he began to recognize the surroundings. “I mean sure, it only took a run-in with some sort of pink, weird, man, person, deity thing- But hey, if I don’t have a story to tell from it.”

It was a habit of Tommy’s. Talking to himself like this.

\--

It was a good thing he got up when he did, because it was starting to grow dim by the time Tommy could make out tents and a campfire through the trees.

“Wilbuuuuurrrrrr, guess who’s baaaaack!” Tommy called as he burst onto the campsite, holding the axe over his head like some sort of victorious pose.

“Wow,” Wilbur says sarcastically as he looks up from where he had been organizing their belongings. “You didn’t die. Congratulations.”

Tommy laughs sharply and tosses him the leather pack. It lands about a foot away from him, but he leans over to pick it up. “Yeah, you’re right about that one! I didn’t die. Not even once, Wilbur! I gotta admit, I’m pretty good at this sort of stuff. Oh, you should’ve seen me! Out there, not dying.”

Wilbur pauses for a moment, as if waiting for Tommy to break the act. “Are you ok? You seem more manic than usual.”

“Manic? My dear Wilbur, you act like you don’t even know what that word means. Now are you going to just hang onto that or give it to me?” Tommy marches over and snatches the pack of steak out of his brother’s hands.

“You literally just-”

“Shut it. I’m hungry.”

Tommy goes over to the fire and unwraps his piece of leather, still muttering to himself. Wilbur gets up from his own project and joins Tommy, bending down to pick up a flat, thin piece of wood and laying it over the fire. Tommy lays the two steaks on it and sits down on the ground, watching them cook.

“Tommy?”

“What?”

“What happened to your shirt?”

Tommy glances down, and realizes that the adrenaline from his quite literal near death experience has all but drained away. He’s come back to his senses, and he realizes what was wrong. His shirt has a slash through it, right on the shoulder and running almost across his chest. Not to mention the dirt, blood, and...who fucking knows what smudged all across it. Well…...fuck.

“I, uh,” he clears his throat, “I fell.”

“You fell.”

“Yes. Would you like me to reenact the whole thing for you or should I just let your imagination do the work for me.”

Wilbur squints at Tommy a bit before eventually looking away and flipping over the steaks with a stick. Maybe telling the whole story wouldn’t be...wise at the moment. He wasn’t going to admit it to anyone, but...maybe after the thrill of it settled, maybe...maybe Tommy was starting to realize what the fuck actually happened. He almost died. Like, actually, no joke, corpse rotting in a forest, died. And he felt...tired. Not physically, not like he did when he practically had half a working heart, but...emotionally. Even for Tommy, it was enough to give him mental whiplash. That, and he knew if he told Wilbur about it, plus the weird meeting with the guy who sorta almost definitely saved his life...Wilbur would just worry. Or make fun of him, and then worry. It’s growing dark now, but the camp is well-lit. Maybe Tommy will just...sleep early tonight. Maybe try a little bit to forget about the whole thing. Maybe it’ll be a funny story to tell someday, but now...For now, he curls his legs up towards his chest a little bit, and watches his brother finish cooking their meal.


End file.
